The Only Girl He Ever Would
by LenaAlexHunt
Summary: Post series two. After a disastrous interview at work, Gene will do anything to wake Alex up, but what will happen when she does? How will she react to Gene after her shooting? AU, Galex.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So, my first Ashes fic in a while! The idea for this came to me whilst watching Life On Mars 1.1... Enjoy, please R&R!**

**For Jamielee and Charlie - huge thank you guys x**

Gene Hunt sat in his office, staring into his tumbler of Scotch. It was useless. Everywhere he looked, he could see Alex. Her empty desk. Their table in Luigi's. Even here, his office, his inner sanctum, he could feel her presence. He remembered the way she used to sit on the edge of his desk, leaning over the computer monitor, tormenting him with tantalising flashes of chest and leg and smouldering eyes. He remembered how she had leant on the filing cabinet, eyes full of tears over the Drake case, and how he had wanted only to comfort her, but he couldn't bring himself to reach out and touch her trembling shoulders.

He slammed the tumbler down, pushing thoughts of her out of his mind as best as he could. But then came the worse images. Her lying, bleeding, at his feet in King Douglas Lane. Her in her hospital bed, looking fragile as glass, white as paper.

He shook his head, rubbing his hands over the day's worth of stubble on his chin and scraping back a few stray strands of hair. He couldn't think about that. He had to remain calm. It had been only a week since the shooting, and the memory of it was raw. How the gun had jolted in his hand as he fired, like it was protesting at hurting someone as innocent and pure as Bolly. How he looked up, praying that he had hit his target. How she had stood, clutching at her stomach and he knew in that split second that his world was about to come crashing down...

"Guv?" Chris's voice broke his reverie, and he looked up, startled.

"What?" he snapped, his tone unintentionally harsh.

"It's, um, it's the Jennings case. We've got the gunman's stepsister in, Lexi Davis. She's in Interview Room One, if you want to... talk to her?" Chris finished nervously, clocking the guv's scowl and the look of anger and regret in his eyes. He knew the guv was worried about the inquiry, and so were the whole team. They knew he'd never meant to hurt Drake, but with the threat he had issued to her in front of all of CID... the evidence was stacking up against him, in the commissioner's eyes, Gene should be out already. But the Jennings case had been Fenchurch East's case for months, and so he had deemed that Gene could bring it to a close before his suspension.

"Fine. Whatever. Out." Gene commanded curtly. He wasn't in any mood for talking. Eat, work, sleep. Talking to colleagues was not featured on the list. Nor was pining for Bolly, but that seemed to take up a large proportion of his time at present. He didn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he missed her. Through everything that happened, through Chris taking bungs and Operation Rose, she had been there. His constant. His Bolly. He needed her now, on this case.

The Jennings case was a fairly open-and-shut case. Gunman on a jewellery blag. Only problem was, he was alone, he killed the only witness, and he left no clues behind him. The only lead they had had been picked up by Drake – a fingerprint on the cabinet. It had been Drake who pushed for forensics to investigate, and found more leads. It was Drake who got a name: Matthew Jennings. It had become her case, and now every witness, every interview, every sodding case file, reminded him of her.

And now the gunman's sister was sat waiting for him. A sister with a name so similar to Drake's, he wondered how he would keep his composure in the same room as her. But he had to do it. A small part of him told him to solve the case, make Alex proud. That she's get back and tell him he'd done a good job, banged up the right man. Another part of him told him that maybe, just maybe, if he solved the case, she would wake up.

He slammed out of his office, telling himself not to be so ridiculous. Since the shootings, Matthew Jennings himself had disappeared off the face of the planet. All he had to get off of the stepsister was a location. His whereabouts. That wasn't so hard, surely? She'd crack in an instant.

As he shoved the door of Interview Room One open, his heart stopped. Sat facing him was his worst nightmare.

Lexi Davis was, down to every last detail, identical to Alex Drake. A sixteen year old, scared-looking Alex Drake. Loosely permed brown hair, huge hazel eyes and a liberal coat of blue eye makeup, coupled with a pair of dark, tight-blue jeans and a blue blouse, all crowned with a white leather jacket slung over the back of the chair, was adding insult to injury. He laughed, a harsh, humourless noise, as he sat, smirking at her, instantly riled.

"So, Miss Davis. What can you tell us about your lovely step-brother that we don't already know?" He asked patronisingly, and she clenched her jaw, her whole face losing its fear and hardening with a firm resolve.

"I don't talk to people who treat me like a kid." She said stubbornly, and Gene flinched inwardly. Even her voice was like Alex's, upper-class, posh, condescending.

"Listen to me, love. You are a kid. Just a stupid, ignorant little kid whose brother's done a bad, bad thing and all I need from you is a bloody location!" He snapped immediately, responding to stubbornness with threats and anger, the way he always had done with Alex.

"I don't know anything." Lexi sighed, and she looked defeated already. A sick sense of pride was coming over Gene. How quickly he had tamed this seemingly wild, arrogant teenager. But he wanted to have a bit of sport. Every bit of him was spoiling for a fight, and if he couldn't argue with his favourite sparring partner, then this little replica would do very nicely instead. Not that she had done anything to him, but her very presence was provoking him. That look... Alex had looked at him like that. She had it coming.

He stood, drawing himself up to his full height.

"What did you say?" He asked, his tone full of menace.

"I don't know! He doesn't like me, he's older, he doesn't talk to me!" Lexi said, her voice shaking with fear. He should have stopped there, but that tone combined with his filthy mood did not make for an ideal match. He put his face down to hers, very close, very menacing, and repeated his words slowly and clearly.

"What – did – you – SAY?" He said, the volume increasing sharply on the final word as his patience snapped. She had to know something. Had to.

"I don't know, I really don't! Please, DCI Hunt..." She was begging now, pleading, but he shook his head, dismissing her words.

"LIES!" He yelled, and slapped his hands down on the table separating them.

"I don't know anything!" She repeated her earlier words, but this time it was imploring him to stop. "Please... I really don't. Shouldn't there be someone else in here? Where's that nice DI that was in here last time? The kind lady? Her... I want to see her!"

Gene's blood ran cold. How dare this girl, this pathetic excuse for his Bolly, how dare she mention Alex? Incapable of any rational thought, he lashed out, his hand catching her cheek hard, bruising the soft pink skin under his touch. He stood, breathing heavily, staring at this teenager who had done nothing to him but look wrong. She was sobbing, clutching her cheek.

"Detective Inspector Drake is in 'ospital. And unless you start talking, you'll end up there too." He threatened her, and she looked at him through her tear-spiked lashes, genuinely concerned... concerned and scared. But when she met with his eyes, so full of rage and anger that the bright blue irises appeared clouded with emotion, something inside her hardened and she made her biggest mistake yet.

"Well, at least you can't hurt her." She whispered defiantly, and Gene roared with rage. Honest, pure rage, and he lashed out, again and again, until her cheeks were a livid purple and his hands were burning with the force of his slaps. This girl, this _Lexi _had dared to come here, dolled up like _his _Alex, and then tell him that she was glad that DI Drake was in hospital, a place where he had put her. He couldn't comprehend it. The sheer bloody _nerve..._

But then he looked at her. Her eye makeup was running down her cheeks, her bruised, broken cheeks, her mouth was quivering in fear, and her body radiated defeat. What had he done? What had he _done_? For all his years of policing, all his years of knocking men around interview rooms until they talked, he had _never _hit a woman. He had never dreamed he would, never thought that he stoop low enough to damage an innocent, gentle woman. And he had.

He stood there breathing heavily, disgust and fear coursing through his veins. If anyone found out about this... he would be for it. He was lost, broken, and he bent down to Lexi desperately. She flinched as he did so, expecting another onslaught.

"I'm sorry." He confessed to her. "I am so, so sorry. Please. Do anything you want. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him in amazement.

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"Report me. God knows, I've got nothing to live for any more. Take my job too." He said, his voice full of defeat.

"This is about DI Drake, isn't it?" She asked, and he managed to nod his head slowly. "You love her, don't you?" She asked, and he snapped his head up in shock.

"What?" He asked, this time the bewildered one. "What're you talking about?"

It was a poor denial, and they both knew it. "You love her. You're worried about her. I remember when I saw you last time. You didn't see me, but I saw how DI Drake looked at you. I won't report you, because you're living for this, aren't you? The job? This was her case and you're carrying it on for her." Lexi explained, and Gene was shocked. He had just hit a woman, beaten her so badly her cheeks were now a livid purple and green, and here she was telling him that because he was in love, she wouldn't report him.

"But..." He stammered, and she stood.

"I've taken worse from my stepbrother, DCI Hunt. Really." She shrugged on her jacket as she spoke, and wound a soft scarf around her face, covering her cheeks. "He's a violent bastard when he drinks." She walked calmly towards the door of the Interview Room, and he let her. With her hand on the door handle, she turned to face him.

"You could always try over Lewisham way. He's got associates round there."

With that, she was gone.

He had chosen an extraordinary girl to hit, but he vowed then and there never to again.

He didn't know that in two months time, his hand would be making contact with another woman's cheek.

The very woman he had vowed to always protect, the woman he loved, the woman he cared about like no other.

He didn't know that in two months, he would hit Alex Drake.

**Reviews make me very happy :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**So... after popular demand (From Jamielee and lotty-anna) I decided to write a short second part to this... enjoy! Please R&R!**

Gene loomed over Alex's tiny, broken form. But for the drips and wires running in and out of her pale-white, paper-like skin, she could have been asleep. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, and there was the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Her hair, seemingly darker, was spread around her head like a chestnut halo, and her lips, slightly parted and trembling with each breath she took, looked cold and pale.

It was an improvement from the last time he had seen her, hooked up to more machines than he could count, the pinkness seeming to fade from her skin with each minute he watched. A tube, coarsely shoved into her mouth, helped her to breathe and her heart-rate sounded in his ears, monitored by an artificial beep. That time, he has taken her hand in desperation, squeezed it, wanting nothing more than to feel her squeeze it back, wanting her to wake up and shout at him, scream all the obscenities and insults she could think of. But she remained cold and impassive, and all his rantings had brought about nothing, not even a change in the constant _beep-beep-beep._ It was like she was trapped deep inside herself, and nothing could penetrate the fortified exterior.

He took a seat beside her reluctantly, his head in his hands. He couldn't believe what he was about to do. "Bolly... please wake up. Come on. I miss all your Psychology bullshit. I miss your smile. I miss your arse in those jeans you loved. I miss _you._" He was begging, and Gene Hunt didn't beg. But he needed her back.

Lexi's words rang in his ears: "You love her."

He didn't want to admit it, but he knew he did. He knew that now, he could never admit it – if she ever woke up, Discipline and Complaints would be all over him before he got the chance to say anything or make his move. He also knew that he was risking everything by being here, that if any of the nurses caught him he would be thrown out and worse still – arrested.

Bolly was his only hope. The only way he could clear his name was if she woke up, if she confirmed it was an accident. He needed her to wake up, and soon. Any longer, and he would most likely be arrested again. He had already spent two nights in a police cell, after arresting Matthew Jennings, and he hadn't liked it much. From locked up in prison, he would be even less likely to see his Alex again. He couldn't face that. He could face the abuse, the sheer shame of being called a "cop killer"... he just couldn't bear it being over Bolly. His Alex, his Drakey, his Lady Bolls. She was his property, in his eyes, and he had damaged her. Broken her.

He remembered the way she had lay on the cold flagstones of the ruined church on King Douglas Lane, her blood pooling under her fingers, her jacket stained crimson.

He looked back at her and stood. The only idea he had, the only thing he could possibly think of, was to hit her. He had sworn to never hit a woman again, sworn to protect them – but she needed to wake up.

"Alex!" He said desperately, one final time, praying she would wake up and he wouldn't have to do this.

Fighting his demons, he raised his fist, and ignoring the fact he had been waiting to do this for two years, he swung his arm downwards and struck her left cheek, hard, snapping her head to one side.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was the tiny cry she gave as he hit her, and the sense of relief that washed over him.

She was awake. She was back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well... thank you so much for all your continuing support (especially XTimeGirlX, lotty-anna, sash queen of the jungle and Jamielee) Due to overwhelming demand, this story will grow, I promise, to be an AU instead of series three. This is where it starts... so enjoy! Please R&R!**

As he loomed over her, she gasped slightly, head rolling, taking in her surroundings. She looked disappointed, Gene noticed – as though she wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted to hold her close, kiss her forehead and soothe away her worries, tell her how he really felt and that she must never, ever leave him ever again.

But as the look in her eyes deepened to sheer horror at being back with him, the nervous side of him took over and he was talking, burbling on about anything and anyone.

"Well, that worked them. Cos I had a mate called Brian Batts. Used to get on the voddy t's and wind up sparko in his own sick." He said in a panicked rush. What the hell was he saying? No he didn't. He'd never associate with anyone with a name as singularly awful as Brian Batts. But his mind rambled on.

"A little tap to the boat race always brought him round with a smile, so smile, you're back." What was wrong with him? The great Manc Lion, proud northern man through and through, was speaking Cockney rhyming slang. But the final part of the sentence was finally a true sentiment – why wasn't she smiling? She'd been unconscious for three bloody months, she could look slightly happier to see him.

Now it was time for the embarrassing part. Gene Hunt did not do girly presents. He wasn't some kind of delivery boy, jobbing errands. But this was Bolly, and he would do anything to make her happy. And if getting out of this hospital would make her happy, he was not going to walk her out in an unflattering and frankly downright ugly hospital gown. "You're gonna like these. They're even clean." He explained, dropping the pile of clothes on her legs awkwardly. She protested feebly, a small whimper leaving her lips, and Gene felt his heart sink. She'd been in a coma, and now she'd lost the power of speech.

He couldn't deal with this. The alien feeling of guilt and sadness inside him was an unknown quantity, a strange sensation that he wasn't altogether comfortable with. He tried to deal with it the only way he could, determined not to show any weakness to his Detective Inspector, even if she was the one lying, incapable of speech, in a hospital bed.

"What's the matter with you, you dozy mare?" he managed, dealing with the emotions the only way he knew how. The sharp reminder that it was his fault she was lying there was suddenly keen to manifest itself and did so in his next words, forming themselves into sound almost without permission. "You walked straight into the path of my shooter. I don't fire magic bullets, you know. They don't go bending in the air." The mood, now inappropriately light, was still unspoilt with the sound of her voice and he found himself craving it, praying for it. After she had been shot, everything about her had started to fade from his mind and he had found himself listening to her tapes over and over, no matter how unpleasant, absorbing every syllable, every perfectly pronounced word and every infliction of her unique voice.

"They said I tried to kill you Bolls, but I know you wouldn't let me down. We're a team. Bodie and Doyle. I'm the one in the SAS, you can be the one with girl's hair. Now get your knickers on, we're leaving." He cursed inwardly. Why hadn't he made that sound more tender, gentler? He couldn't have just left it at the first bit, could he? No, he had to spoil it with his stupid, insensitive humour, make it sound course and sexual. He didn't mean it like that.

As she finally moved, reaching over to undo the blood pressure cuff from her arm, he felt his heart leap momentarily and left her to get changed in private. He couldn't quite believe she was really awake, couldn't believe she was all right.

She finally emerged, the colour just returning to her cheeks, hair loosely styled, looking beautiful despite everything. She took his arm without his permission, and the contact filled him with warmth. She clung to him for support, and as she rambled on about the future, he looked around nervously, praying that no hospital staff were around to see them leave.

"I was in a dream. I was at a home, but I... but I wasn't. I was in ICU. There was a man. It was a young copper, his face was..." She was muttering, and his heart sank. She wasn't still convinced about all that "I'm from the future" crap, was she?

He cut her off roughly. "When you've finished blabbering, you're going to clear my name with D and C." He told her, and it wasn't a choice, an option, but rather a command. A senior officer telling his DI what he wanted to her to do – what he needed her to do.

"That's a gynaecological procedure, isn't it?" She asked, still confused from the medication and overall shock of waking up. He felt a strong sense of pride, of knowing something she did not.

"Nothing so glamourous. Discipline and Complaints. The rubberheelers. Turns out if you shoot a fellow officer, they get a bit annoyed about it." He told her firmly, but feeling his stomach clench at the mention of the snooty, "by the book" bastards who could so easily end his career – a simple command and it would all be over. He'd be locked away for life, and they'd never let him see his Bolly ever again. It was too awful a thought to contemplate, and he focused on walking, leading her to a dark garage he knew would be safe, several streets away from the hospital.

~/~/~/~

He chose to stand, producing a bottle of Scotch and offering it to a slightly better recovered Alex, who still – in her slightly woozy state – leant against a bench. She fixed him with an appraising stare and he braced himself for the barrage of questions he knew would be coming.

"Where did you go?" She asked him. That was a simple enough question to answer.

"Abroad. The Isle of Wight. That was shit. So I tried the Costa Brava. D'you know it was the best full English I've ever had. Then I thought "Why am I running? Gene Hunt doesn't run." I'm in a mess, Bolls." He admitted, cursing himself for this show of weakness. He never admitted that to anyone, no matter how bad the situation. He waited for her to scoff, to shout and tell him that she was the one who'd been shot, thank you very much, and she wasn't whining.

"So am I." She admitted quietly, and he looked up, surprised, yet reassured enough to continue.

"Fighting for my future." He confided, and she nodded.

"Me too." She assured him, and emboldened, he plucked up the courage to do the thing he had been longing to.

"Get up. Come here." He told her, and to his surprise she obliged. She knew wordlessly what he was going to do and as he pulled her to her feet and his hands went to the hem of her dark blue shirt she allowed him to do so. The skin around the bullet wound was puckered and a livid pink, and memories overwhelmed him – firing the near-fatal bullet, watching her fall. He felt a sudden rush of apology, and pulled her top back down.

"I'm sorry. Could have hit me target, but you fell all wrong." He muttered gruffly, expecting her to reject his words, but his surprise she looked up at him, sympathetic.

"Sometimes in life, you can't help which way you fall." She murmured philosophically, and he wanted more than anything to lean down and kiss her then, but he couldn't bring himself to... couldn't bring himself to just reach out his hand and cup her cheek or hold her close to him.

"You do know when I walk through those doors, they're going to come for me?" He said, changing the mood abruptly, and she nodded her understanding.

"Yeah. Well, there's only one thing for it." She replied with a hint of a smile. He looked at her and a hint of the old Drake and Hunt spark was in her eyes. ""Let's fire up the Quattro."

He took the lead, half-dragging her to where he had hidden his pride and joy, dragging off the cover and climbing inside with no hesitation, watching with a hint of affection as Alex gently caressed the roof with one hand, trailing her fingers over the gleaming paintwork with a content smile on her face. He didn't want to hurry her, and as she climbed in, he smiled at her reassuringly.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Bollykecks?" he asked, and she smiled sadly.

"Yeah. It has." She whispered, and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, falling silent. He knew not to push her and the car was a few streets from Fenchurch when he stopped. He couldn't bear going back there, seeing the look of shock and disappointment in their eyes. Facing them all. He couldn't expose Bolly to the probing D & C officers, couldn't bear to watch them slowly break her down.

She looked moderately alarmed at the sudden halt, and she turned to him, silently questioning him.

"Alex..." he began, trying to phrase what he wanted to say the right way. "You know what you said earlier? About falling?" He asked, and she nodded, a small, worried nod. "Alex... I think that... I think that I've, well... fallen for you."

She laughed then, and Gene mentally cursed. Why the _hell _had he said that? He sounded like a poof, and now she was laughing at him.

"Gene... is that you attempting romance?" she asked, and he blushed a brilliant crimson. Gene Hunt did not blush.

"Yeah, well... sound like a poof... sorry... overwhelmed..." he muttered an excuse, staring at the steering wheel intently. A moment later, he felt a hand on his on the gear stick, and he looked back at Alex in shock.

"Gene... I think that..." She bit her lip, nervous, before smiling at him, her radiant, full smile that he had missed so much. "I think that I've fallen for you too."

The look on his face must have been comical, because she laughed then, her wonderful, sunny laugh, and he was laughing too, briefly.

"Really? You really mean it?" He asked, wanting desperately to believe her, wanting more than anything to kiss her, but needing to know.

"Of course I do, you daft man. I love you." She confessed, blushing slightly as she did so, the colour painting her cheeks a healthier shade of pink.

"I love you too." He admitted, and as he stared into her eyes, content to simply do so, she moved faster than he thought possible, her lips meeting his gently.

He was kissing Alex Drake. His brain went into overdrive, his hands pulling her closer to him awkwardly over the handbrake, their tongues intertwining, and all too soon she was pulling away, breathing heavily, and he was reminded that she had just come out of hospital. She looked exhilarated, alive, and he smiled back at her hesitantly.

"Gene... let's not go back there." She whispered boldly, and he stared at her in shock.

"What?" he asked disbelievingly, not daring to believe what she was suggesting.

"Let's run away... leave all this behind us. Screw D & C. Screw CID. We'll go on the _run._" The last word was whispered, dangerous, and the passion in her eyes burned. She claimed his lips with her own again and he pulled away reluctantly after a few moments.

"But Bolls... work... your flat..." he rationalised, but she smiled at him flirtatiously.

"We can start again. A new place. Maybe a new place every week. Anywhere but here. Please." She begged, her eyes pleading with him, and he was won over instantly. Without thinking about it properly, without giving it due consideration, he stumbled out of the car, pulling her with him, kissing her again with an urgency he knew was unnecessary but he couldn't seem to avoid.

"Go. Pack a bag. Back here in ten. Don't let anyone from work see." He told her, and she left him reluctantly, her hand lingering in his.

She was back in five minutes, breathless and excited, and as she scrambled into the car, she squeezed his hand.

"Drive," she instructed, and he smiled too, giddy with adrenaline.

"Where?" he asked her, and her eyes looked out of the windscreen, as though there may be some idea of where to go in the quiet suburban street. She looked back at him with a grin.

"Anywhere," she whispered, and he started the car obediently.

"Anywhere." He confirmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**So... here's part four! A bit of angsty stuff here, and some Galex fluff... enjoy! Huge thank you to all of my reviewers... keep R&R-ing!**

That first day was torturous for them both. Alex ached to have Gene in her arms, and he ached for her with a twin longing so that both sat in a frustrated silence as he drove, taking any road to anywhere, following no signs, just driving.

It was Alex who broke the silence, taking Gene's hand on the gearstick and squeezing it lightly before whispering the words somewhat hesitantly: "Gene... where are we going?"

He squeezed back, snatching a look at her perfect face before returning his eyes to the road. "Dunno, Bolls. Where'd you fancy?" He inquired, and Alex smiled a secret smile. She knew that he would spurn her suggestion, but she was willing to try.

"Oxford." She asked with a certainness, and Gene screeched the car to a halt in the quiet side road.

"_Oxford?_" He asked, mouth agape. "Why in God's name do you want to go to Oxford, Bolly?"

Her mouth set in a steely line, and he braced himself, knowing what was coming. He started the car again, knowing he would be grateful for the distraction, and began to prepare his comebacks for the argument he knew was going to ensue.

~/~/~/~

_Fenchurch East CID stared at the oily-looking man who stood in the centre of their office with disdain. His name was apparently Jim Keats, and he was a DCI – although he was a poor substitute for their own absent senior officer. He had come bearing shocking news, or so he claimed._

"_Right. As I'm sure you're all aware, DCI Hunt has been on suspension for a number of weeks ever since the shooting of DI Drake. As you may also be aware, DI Drake was a patient at St Thomas's. However, at eight o'clock this morning, DCI Hunt is believed to have entered the hospital and left with DI Drake... hospital staff have stated that she was in a deep level of coma and it is therefore unlikely that she is conscious. DCI Hunt is now guilty of not only shooting her, but now abducting her, and both need to be located. DI Drake requires urgent hospital treatment, and DCI Hunt needs to be brought to justice. Drop all other cases, this is your priority."_

_With that, he turned and left, leaving them to digest the information._

"_I don't understand... why would the guv kidnap DI Drake? He knows she was in the best place in the hospital, why would he take her?" Chris asked, baffled._

"_He wouldn't, Chris." Shaz said, trying to reassure everyone. "It's a lie. He wouldn't just walk out with her. Besides, how would he get her out of the hospital? Ray?"_

_He didn't answer immediately, poring over the photographs DCI Keats had left._

"_Ray?" She asked again, and he swallowed, holding up one in particular._

"_Well, if it's a lie... where the 'ell is DI Drake?" he asked, and they crowded round. The starched white sheets were drawn back, the dents in the mattress showing where their DI had remained immobile for three months – but she was definitely not there._

~/~/~/~

Alex was asleep when they arrived in Oxford. She had won the argument some hours previously, by batting her eyelashes and putting on her most affected voice, and Gene had reverted to a sulky silence, turning off obediently at every signpost. He had considered – after she fell asleep – driving somewhere else, but he had felt Bolly's wrath before and had no desire to do so again.

He stopped the car outside the first small B&B he saw, and went over to her side of the car, shaking her awake gently. "Bolls? Wake up, sweetheart. We're here." He whispered, and she started, waking suddenly and pushing him away in confusion.

"What?" She mumbled, and he felt a small sting of rejection until she suddenly remembered where she was and who with and smiled at him broadly. "Gene." She whispered, placing her palm on his cheek tenderly, before he lifted her out of the car and set her down on the gravel drive. "Where are we?" She asked, and he turned back to her with a smug expression on his face.

"Oxford." He told her proudly, "The Nettleton Bed and Breakfast. Thought it was preferable to sleepin' in the car."

She smiled at him again. "You wonderful, organised man." She told him, darting forwards to kiss his cheek, enjoying watching him squirm self-consciously as she did so. "Come on." She instructed, towing him up the path to the small entryway. Inside, it was warm and cosy, and she wound Gene's arm around her waist as she went up to the small desk. With a practiced swipe, she rang the small bell and bustling, portly woman appeared from nowhere.

"Hello, my dear, how can I help?" She inquired, and Alex smiled her most winning smile.

"My husband and I would like a room for the night," she stated simply, and the woman smiled, handing over the forms cheerfully.

"Wife, Bolls?" Gene whispered in her ear discreetly, and she smiled at him coyly.

"Yes, _Matthew_, now shush." She replied firmly, and he obeyed, watching her sign her name as Elizabeth Price with a flourish.

"Thank you," she said simply, accepting the key graciously and half dragging him up the stairs. Once inside their small room, she turned to him with a smile. He looked at her incredulously.

"Matthew?" He asked her, and she looked down, embarrassed.

"Sorry. All I could think of in a hurry. We're now Matthew and Elizabeth Price, married since 1980. Problem?" She asked him frankly, and he shook his head slowly, somewhat confused. "Gene, listen... they're going to look for us." She explained, and he looked up at her in shock. He had never considered that, too caught up in the sheer exhilaration of being on the run with her, too caught up in the lingering feeling of her lips on his. He had forgotten his wanted status, never thinking that they would come after him.

He sank down onto the bed slowly, head in his hands. "Shit..." he muttered. "They're after us, Bollykecks."

There was a gentle rustling noise, and a second later he felt Alex's arms around him, comforting him, holding him together. He shifted slightly, pulling her onto his lap, and with a start he realised that she had shed most of her clothing, and was now perched on his lap wearing nothing but her brassiere and – undoubtedly expensive – French knickers.

"I know, Gene." She whispered seductively, pressing her lips to his with an urgency that frightened him. He had dreamt of this moment for years, having Alex kissing him in sexy lingerie, but now he found that he was suffering a rare attack of decency. As her hands went to his shirt buttons, he pushed her away gently, and noticing her hurt expression, he explained in a rush of words.

"Bolls... you're vulnerable. You've just come out of hospital, and I think this is going a bit too fast." He murmured soothingly, his arms around her protectively.

"Gene..." She pleaded, but he was having none of it.

"Not tonight, Alex. Soon, I promise." He had barely spoken the words than her face crumpled, and he stood then, sweeping her up into his grasp firmly before laying her down on the bed. Discarding his shirt in one swift movement, he pulled her close, feeling her skin, cool against his.

As she turned her face to his chest, the tears began to fall and he held her tightly as his beautiful Bolly sobbed, knowing that the only comfort he could offer was being there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about the short delay - I hope this is worth it. Galex fluff and more angstyness :) Thank you to all my reviewers, I love you all! Please continue to R&R!**

Alex awoke slowly. She could feel the heat of Gene's breath on the back of her neck and the warmth of his arm on her bare stomach. She rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch her arms without waking Gene, and he moaned softly, pulling her closer. His fingers rolled over the cool skin of her scar and she gasped softly, more from instinct than real pain. She shifted her hips gently so that his fingers rested further over her stomach and he moaned again.

"Bolls?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Morning..." she whispered and rolled over to face him. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were full of sleep, but dressed in nothing but a vest and white slip-ons, she felt a sudden rush of desire that she knew could not be fulfilled yet. She pressed her lips to his gently, and he moved so that he loomed over her, pinning her to the bed. Every part of Alex screamed at her that she wanted this, but she knew it was neither the time or place and she shoved him away firmly.

"Not here, Gene." She explained, and he looked sulky. She sighed in exasperation. "Please. We've got to go in a few minutes... and I want it to be special. Please?" She pleaded, and Gene gave her a look of grudging resignation.

"Alright. Shift yer arse then, Bolls. Up, washed and dressed." He ordered and she slipped out of bed, gasping as her feet made contact with the cold floor. As Gene stared at her coyly over the edge of the duvet, she wandered into the bathroom, pushing her hair back from her face, and closed the door firmly behind her.

Gene sighed. He'd somehow managed to get Alex out of hospital, run away with her, and sleep in the same bed as her... she'd even said she loved him. The last two days had been beyond his wildest dreams. He stood, pulling on the same shirt as yesterday, the same trousers, and he was combing his hair through when Alex emerged from the bathroom, still clad in lingerie but now with sopping wet hair. She looked... vulnerable. Pure. He'd never seen her so relaxed about her appearance before, and as she went to her small suitcase and pulled out a soft, white jumper he was amazed. In her raw form... she somehow managed to be even more sexually alluring, and as she slid the jumper over her perfect skin, he went up behind her and took her in his arms, resting his cheek against the soft wool.

"Bolls... you look perfect." He whispered, surprising himself with his own words. "Perfect"? Since when had Gene Hunt said things like "you look perfect"?

Alex was equally shocked. He had called her many things – from "sexy" to "bitch" – but never perfect. She turned to look at him, abruptly shorter than him without her ridiculous high heels, staring up at him through her eyelashes. She leant forward slowly, and he pressed his lips to her forehead tenderly, enjoying the moment.

~/~/~/~

_Ray slammed down the file he was carrying. He was sick of all this. An absent senior officer he could deal with. Two was pushing it but he could handle. A senior officer on the run was a different matter – but a senior officer who had supposedly kidnapped a comatose DI and run off with her? Christ, anyone would struggle. _

_He sat down and sighed, staring out of Gene's office door. Since the guv had left, he thought he might as well move in. But recently... it had started to feel wrong. Like... what was that word? Sacrilege. Like he was violating some kind of holy place, just by being there._

_In the main office, Shaz turned to Chris with a look of despair in her eyes._

"_He wouldn't do it, Chris! He wouldn't! I know he w-w-wouldn't!" She broke down in sobs and Chris rushed over to her, murmuring quiet words of comfort and wrapping a protective arm around her._

"_I know. But DI Drake's probably awake by now, and I'm sure they're both fine. He won't hurt her. I know he won't. They'll be fine. This is just a misunderstanding." He reassured her, and there was a low, menacing chuckle._

_Jim Keats strode further into the office, a clutch of photographs in his hand. "Just a misunderstanding, DC Skelton? So why was DCI Hunt seen entering DI Drake's hospital room at nine forty-three am yesterday morning?" He slapped the photos down on Alex's vacant desk, as if to over-emphasise his point._

"_No..." Ray stormed out of his office, ready to deny the evidence as accurate. "Where's the photos of 'im leaving?"_

"_Unfortunately, DI Carling, the CCTV at the hospital is routinely deleted, and whilst we have photographs of his entry, his exit is uncharted..."_

"_But..." Ray tried to deny it further, but Keats was in full flow._

"_...Please, continue working. We need to find DI Drake before it's too late. DCI Hunt has been seen to be violent and misogynistic in the past. God knows what he might do to her." He commanded, before turning on his heel and striding from CID._

"_Oh, bloody 'ell." Ray cursed, sinking into a vacant chair. "He wouldn't 'urt 'er. We know that. Everyone knows that. I still say it's a misunderstanding."_

~/~/~/~

Alex fluffed her hair with one hand, holding up a compact mirror with the other. Her hair – which she hadn't had the time to style – was wavy beyond belief, and she had no idea how to tame it. Gene was shooting her amused glances and she was fed up.

"Shut up, Gene." She snapped and he turned back to the road.

"Didn't say anything." He said defensively and she scowled at him before returning to the worry of her hair. She dragged a brush through it and it lost some of its waviness, and seemingly content she lowered the mirror.

"Better." She announced, and Gene looked back at her.

"You looked fine before, Bolls." He assured her, and she smiled at him.

"Really?" She asked him and he reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly and dragging it over to the gearstick so that he could multitask.

"Really. You're amazing, Alex. Just the way you are. I promise." He said, unashamed, and the look on Alex's face was priceless. She raised their intertwined fingers to her lips.

"Gene Hunt... you are wonderful. You know that, don't you?" She whispered, and he smirked.

"I know, Bolly. I know." He half-laughed. "But you can keep tellin' me anyway."

~/~/~/~

They arrived in Southampton late that night. Gene was, as ever, wide awake and alert, whilst Alex was visibly drooping, exhausted from hours of travelling. He all but carried her up the sweeping stairs and he sat her down on the bed carefully.

"Alex? Come on, sweetheart. We're here now. You can go to sleep." He whispered and she seemed to wake up abruptly.

"I don't want to sleep, Gene." She replied quietly, and pulled him back on the bed by his tie, forcing her lips onto his with an intensity that was raw and untamed.

"Alex..." he managed to gasp, his breath ragged, his lips claimed by hers before he could hesitate further and as her hands undid his shirt buttons, alternating between his clothing and her own, he allowed himself to escape, caught in the moment completely. As skin met skin, as their bodies melted together, he closed his eyes, feeling Alex's lips on his cheek, his jaw, his neck, and realised he suddenly felt freer than he had in months.

~/~/~/~

_It was around six o'clock the next morning that the hotel took delivery of the day's newspapers. From the front page of the Daily Mail screamed the headline "Cop turned kidnapper" and a photograph of Gene Hunt. The hotel receptionist – whilst tired and overworked – recognised the man upstairs, and without hesitation dialled the number listed at the bottom of the article._

"_Hello, Crime Action Line. How may I help you?" asked a voice at the other end of the phone._

"_I'm calling from the Crown Hotel, Southampton. Gene Hunt is staying here."_

**Oooh, what a cliffhanger :D **

**Sorry about the Bruno Mars reference ^^**


	6. Chapter 6

**So... I couldn't leave you in suspense, it was too cruel. Here's part six... much love to all my reviewers! Please enjoy :) x**

The next morning, Gene shook Alex awake hastily.

"Bolly... wake up. _Wake up!_" He repeated more insistently and she groaned, burying her head back in the duvet.

"Five more minutes, Gene..." She mumbled, determined to stay in the warm embrace of both Gene and the bed for as long as possible.

"Wake up!" He all but shouted, shaking her, and she woke up abruptly, irritable.

"_What?_" She asked, annoyed. "What is it?" She had wanted to revel in this moment – the morning after she slept with Gene Hunt was not supposed to go like this. She was supposed to wake up slowly in his arms, kiss him, and then tease him for a while before offering him breakfast.

She hadn't factored in – back when she fantasised about such things – that their first time would be in a small hotel room, on the run from the law. And she hadn't factored in Gene being quite so... insistent.

"Bolls... it's half past nine. We need to go. Soon." He hissed, and she sat up abruptly, the covers falling away from her form as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

"Shit." She muttered, springing from the bed lithely, darting around the room and snatching clothes up, pulling on the first things her hands came into contact with. Moments later, she was dressed, and darting over to Gene, she kissed him once before grabbing him by the hand and pulling him from the room urgently.

They had overslept by at least an hour and a half – they usually preferred to be out of hotels by around eight o'clock, eight thirty at the latest – and they needed to make up for lost time. As Alex stumbled down the stairs, still half asleep, Gene behind her, neither of them noticed the man concealed in the darkness of the stairwell, just waiting to pounce.

~/~/~/~

_Armed officers were surrounding the hotel, guns ready. Ray and Chris were stood opposite the doors, poised, hating what they were about to do but knowing it was necessary. Keats had made the plan clear – wait until they checked out, let them get out of the hotel and then arrest DCI Hunt and detain DI Drake between the building and the Quattro._

_The radio in Chris's pocket crackled._

"_They're coming your way. Get ready for takedown."_

_Ray watched with a heavy heart as Gene Hunt, his guv, walked from the hotel, his arm around DI Drake. His former DCI paused, and turned to face Alex, gently lowering his face to hers and kissing her._

"_Bloody 'ell..." Chris muttered. "I don't know if I can..."_

"_GO! GO! GO!" Keats screeched over their radios, and they looked at each other once apprehensively before following the order._

~/~/~/~

They came out of nowhere. A sea of black-uniformed men, led by two ominously familiar figures, charging at them. They had barely broken apart when the wave hit them, surrounding them, pulling them apart, and Alex recognised PCs she knew, PCs she had worked with. They pulled Gene away from her, his hand clinging to hers like a drowning man clings to a life ring, and she was screaming his name whilst they held her back. He kicked and screamed and struggled, and the more he fought the more the wave seemed to consume him, almost dragging him to the ground.

"I'll always love you, Alex!" he shouted over the chaos, lunging forwards with a sudden burst of strength to place one final kiss on her lips. As he was dragged back, as they restrained her, trying to stop her from running to him, he froze.

"DCI Gene Hunt, you're under arrest." A familiar voice said from behind her and her blood ran cold.

"Ray?" She whispered, stopping struggling for a split second, and in that second her hand was torn from Gene's.

"Bastard. I'll never forgive you for this. Never." Gene spat, and then he fell, abruptly silenced, to the ground, a cut on his temple bleeding sluggishly.

"GENE!" Alex screamed, and then the crowds parted. A tall, sneering man with dark-rimmed glasses strode towards her, his lip curling at her anguish.

"DI Drake?" He asked and she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Mother of Molly Drake, ex-wife of Pete?" He asked, and she nodded more enthusiastically.

"Yes... Molly... my little girl..." She whispered and the man turned, beckoning another, equally-smug looking man from behind him.

"Delusional. Quite, quite delusional." This new man diagnosed, and her face fell.

The first man sneered again. The order was short and sharp. "Commit her."

**Muhahaha... another cliffhanger! :O **

**Reviews make me happy :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for the shortness of this chapter! But it will get longer and better after this, I promise x**

**Just to warn you - some mature themes in this chapter.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers... enjoy!**

Gene sat in the police cell, his head in his hands. The last thing he remembered was seeing Ray and Chris, and then telling Alex that he loved her, before it all went black. When he woke up, he was here – stripped of his coat and shirt, everything he possessed taken away. His warrant card. His hip flask. His photo of Alex – his cherished only photo of her. He had nothing left to remind him of her – even her smell had faded from his vest.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember her. The feel of her lips on his. The softness of her hair. The smoothness of her skin. How she used to whisper his name, looking up at him through her eyelashes. How she used to cling to him every night as she cried, scared beyond belief.

It had been a week, but his memories of her were beginning to slip away, erased by the bland whiteness of this cell and the constant intrusive interrogations from DCI Keats. He wanted to know everything that had happened, demanding to know why he had kidnapped Alex, why he had run away with her... and the worst question of all, why he had raped her.

No-one would believe him when he said he loved her, and she loved him. No-one believed him when he said it was not rape. No-one understood. His constant demands to see Alex were denied and he was never allowed to see Chris or Ray. Slowly, he was being broken. Slowly, they were destroying him, and the more he thought about Alex, the surer he became that he deserved it. It was his fault she had been in a coma in the first place. He had shot her. He'd _shot _her. It was all his fault. And now he was condemned to rot in prison, and she was condemned to die in a mental asylum.

God, he'd called her a fruitcake, and she'd come out with a lot of crap about being from the future, but he knew she wasn't really mad. He knew that she shouldn't be in there, with real psychos and mental cases. He needed to get her out, but he couldn't even get himself out of here.

~/~/~/~

_Alex lay on the narrow bed. She was thin, thinner than ever before. A week of refusing to eat had taken pounds off her, and now they had hooked her up to a drip to try and get her nutrients. Every day, they took her out of her tiny cell – they called it a room, but it would always be a cell in so far as it kept her from Gene – to give her drugs that left her writhing in pain and clouded her thoughts. Then she would be taken to see a psychiatrist and he would ask her the same questions over and over, telling her it was alright to be scared. She would refuse to speak, and then they would lock her up again, back in the dark and the cold, and she would curl up on the bed and think of Gene._

_She remembered back in 1982, when Martin Summers had kidnapped her and drugged her and Gene had come to her, shaken her, woken her... saved her. She remembered how scared she had been, but she had known he was coming for her. This time... he wasn't going to be. He was locked up, for sure... anything she said to try and claim his innocence would not be believed now that she was classed as delusional, and therefore her word counted for nothing._

_She wanted to hold him so badly it was like a physical pain. She would curl up, hugging her legs to her chest, her forehead on her knees, and cry, desperate for someone to comfort her. The constant doses of Valium provided no relief from her agony, only clouded her brain further. She found his face slipping from her memory, and the only time she could see it clearly was when she woke screaming every night, tortured by recollections of his face, his touch, his kiss. If she squeezed her eyes shut tight and put her hands over her ears, she could just hear his voice, imagine him telling her he loved her. _

_She needed to get out of there, but she knew there was no way she ever could. Her only hope was that one of CID would get her out... but she doubted that they even knew where she was._

_After two weeks exactly, it all grew too much. She had discovered a sharp edge to her bed frame, and as the lights went out, she leant down and braced herself._

"_I can't be without you, Gene." She whispered. "I love you. And I love you, Molly." _

_With that, she reached her wrists out and slashed them across the jagged metal, feeling the hotness of her own blood drenching her sleeves almost immediately. As the room span, she collapsed back, hearing the alarms sounding already and praying they would be too late to save her._

"_Gene..." she whispered._

_And with that, it all went black._

**OOOH! Cliffhanger :) Please R&R x**


	8. Chapter 8

**So... sorry about the cliffhanger! Hope you're all enjoying this, muchos love to all my reviewers 3**

It was three am when they dragged him, protesting feebly, from his cell, marched him into the interview room and forced him to sit. Keats was sat opposite him, a serious expression on his face.

"Hunt." He acknowledged simply, and Gene mumbled a confirmation.

"You're probably wondering why we've dragged you up here. Well, at eleven pm last night, Detective Inspector Drake attempted to take her own life in her hospital room."

Gene froze instantly. The rest of room didn't matter anymore, the rest of the world ceased to be. He could feel his chest tightening, throat constricting, feel the panic rising, his stomach clenching. _Bolly…__ she couldn't… she wouldn't… no… _He tried desperately to tell himself that she hadnt, it was all an absurd lie, a desperate, last-ditch attempt to draw a confession from him. His beautiful, strong Bolly would never… God.

Then with a judder, he started to imagine her dead. Covered in blood, eyes glassed over. Head in a plastic bag. A belt around her neck. Lying perfectly still, her skin a perfect, porcelain white, deprived of blood, deprived of life.

With a jolt, he realised Keats had only said "attempted." His head snapped up, eyes boring into those of the man who was fighting so hard to bring him down.

"Attempted?" He asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

"Yes, Hunt. Attempted." Keats was shouting, furious. How could this misogynistic bully be so naïve, so cocky? He thought he knew Alex, thought he loved her, and yet he had broken her. "Alex tried to kill herself. And it's all your fault. You drove her to this! You made her do this! You deceived her, you led her on! And now she's so desperate she's trying to kill herself!"

Gene hung his head. "This is all my fault. Everything. God… what have I done?"

"You hurt her, Hunt. You kidnapped her." Keats hissed. "Just confess. Just say you did it. Don't hurt Alex any more. Your precious _Bolly._" He spat the last word, and Gene looked up defiantly.

"What did you say?" He asked, his tone full of quiet anger.

"Your _Bolly. _Your poor, broken little Bolly." Keats hissed, and Gene stood abruptly.

"No. Only I call 'er Bolly. Don't – you – _dare._" He all but shouted the words, and Keats held his hands up.

"Temper, temper. Won't look good in court." He taunted, and Gene could only stand there and fume, too angry to be able to think clearly, too worried about Alex to be able to reason.

~/~/~/~

_Alex woke slowly. Everything hurt. Her wrists were swathed in metres of bandage, and she could hardly move. Turning her head slowly from left to right, she saw a kindly doctor smiling at her._

"_Alex?" He asked her gently, and she nodded._

"_Am I dead?" she whispered, and he shook his head._

"_No… we got to you in time. Do you want to tell me why you did it?" He asked her, and everything came flooding back._

"_Gene…" was all she managed before the tears began, and the doctor looked briefly alarmed, reaching up to turn the dial on her medication. Within seconds, she was under again, a pattern that would repeat itself for the following week until Alex decided resolutely that she would get better. She would prove to everyone she was sane, and get out of this hellhole. _

_The road to recovery was long, slow, difficult and arduous. She made a determined effort to talk to people, she was happy, smiley, and contributed to her counselling sessions, choosing to cooperate with the woman she had once so loathed. At night, of course, she still cried for Gene, and she would often wake from dreams about him, but she managed to stop screaming and instead deflect the emotion to different outlets. She took up writing, almost a year since she had stopped, and her poems were Blu-Tacked to the walls of her cell. In the day, she read books about detectives, about art and philosophy, and she took up yoga._

_Finally, after three months of playing "sane" Alex, it was decided she was fit to leave. On the morning of the seventeenth of May, she packed up her limited possessions and lay down on her bed, fingers trailing over the cool scars on her wrists. She was counting down the minutes until three o'clock, when they were going to unlock the door to her cell and allow her to walk free at last._

_It was at one forty-nine exactly that Alex Drake first felt her baby kick._

**OOOOH. Drama :D Please R&R :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry about the slight delay, guys, I've had an English exam :) Also sorry about the slight rubbishness of this chapter, I'm tired and writing this after said exam. Please enjoy anyway, muchos love to all my reviewers - both the old faithfuls and my new ones. Enjoy, and R&R :)**

After Alex's release, she retreated to her old flat, hardly venturing out. The Met had offered to transfer her over to Kensington CID and she had accepted, although it was strange not walking over the road to work every morning. Everyone at her new job knew who she was and what had supposedly happened with Gene, and they mostly gave her a wide berth, talking to her only when necessary. She kept her pregnancy to herself, telling no-one about it.

The truth about the baby was that it scared her. She knew what people would think of the child – they would think it the product of rape or some other such lies, and condemn her unborn baby. She knew that people would think her weak, or strange for keeping the child. They'd be social outcasts. But she couldn't bring herself to terminate the pregnancy. She loved the baby already – a part of Gene, a part of her – and she could not get rid of it.

Each morning, she would wake slowly, feeling the stirrings of the tiny life inside her, and dress wordlessly, travelling to work with a growing sense of dread inside her for the day ahead. She would arrive at work, sit down and stay silent, making no contribution, answering no questions from her colleagues about how her evening went or what she was doing after work. She was Alex Drake, she kept herself to herself. No questions asked.

It wasn't until there was the tiniest hint of a bump between her hips that something interesting finally happened. Her new DCI told her awkwardly in the corridor outside CID, whispering the words.

"I'm so sorry, Alex... but Fenchurch East need you to go over to pick some things up. I couldn't get you out of it... it's alright if you don't..." He apologised, too embarrassed to be able to speak coherently.

"I'll go." She assured him, and he looked taken aback.

"What?" He asked, incredulous.

"I said I'll go. OK? Is now convenient?" She enquired politely and he nodded, dazed.

"Yes, er, I guess so..." He confirmed and she turned, almost running out of the door, eager to go back to her old stomping ground and see the place she had loved so dearly, the place that had been her whole world.

~/~/~/~

Walking through the doors of Fenchurch had been more moving than she could possibly have imagined. So many memories – both good and bad – returned to her and she simply stood, taking it all in.

"Ma'am!" Viv exclaimed and she smiled at him, going straight over to his desk and leaning on it casually.

"Viv... it's good to see you. How are you?" She asked, more animated than she had been for months.

"I'm... I'm well, thank you ma'am, but you shouldn't..." his eyes darted to behind her nervously. "You shouldn't be here now."

Alex's face fell. "What do you mean?" She asked, hurt. "Why not? What's happening..."

Before her question could be finished, she heard the doors in the corridor behind her open and she turned, knowing in the split second before she saw the person stood there who it would be.

"_Gene._" She whispered, taking in the man that she loved, stood, broken, next to a nervous WPC.

He was a shadow of the man he once was, his hair neatly trimmed but his facial hair unshaven, his vest grubby. He was slimmer than he had ever been whilst she knew him, and his arms hung limply at his sides, the resistance gone. He wasn't fighting this, she realised. He wasn't fighting the charges.

"Alex..." he barely breathed the words, hardly daring to believe she could really be here.

It was with a jolt that Alex realised she could talk to him. The WPC was young and new, and Viv wasn't going to tell anyone. She held out her warrant card.

"I'm DI Alex Drake, Kensington CID. Put him in Interview Room Two." She commanded, and the WPC nodded obediently.

"Yes ma'am." She said calmly and grabbed Gene by the elbow, tugging him around, back along the corridor and pushing him towards the interview rooms. His eyes never left Alex's as she did so, and she followed the curious pair, the former DCI and the young WPC, with a slight tremor of nervousness.

"You can leave us to it." She ordered the WPC and the woman nodded, turning and leaving with no further prompting. Alex shut the door behind her and then turned to a baffled Gene.

Both were suddenly unsure what to say. It had been months since they had been in each other's arms, since they had held each other and admitted their love. Gene had been broken by Keats long ago, although he refused to confess to anything, and Alex was bored to tears in her new job.

"Bolls..." Gene whispered, his voice breaking on the simple syllable, and that was all it took for her to go to him, taking him in her arms and holding him close, kissing every inch of his face she could reach and wanting nothing more than to tell him, over and over, that she loved him.

"Gene... my God... I've missed you..." She murmured softly, feeling his arms go around her, holding her to him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat racing and trying to control the tears that were beginning to flow down her cheeks unchecked. He ran his hands over her hips, her waist... her stomach. He frowned as his hands met the curve of her stomach, looking at her with one eyebrow raised, asking the question silently.

Alex pulled away fractionally, her hands in Gene's, holding them firmly so that he couldn't overreact. The words were choked by tears:

"I don't know how to... I'm pregnant, Gene. With your baby."

**Reviews make me happy :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sooo... I couldn't leave you in suspense that long :) Here is part 10, hope you like it! Muchos love to reviewers as usual x Please R&R!**

"No." the word was simple and short and yet it knocked the breath from Alex's lungs, leaving her gasping for air. "No, you're lying. You can't be. You CAN'T." He pulled his hands from hers violently, leaving her palms empty and trembling.

The tears filled her eyes as she began to try to reassure him. "Gene... Please! She's yours, your little girl. Our baby. Ours, Gene. Please..." her voice was thick with tears and she could feel total incoherence threatening. Gene was shaking his head.

"Yer lying!" he all but shouted. "Why would you do that ter me Alex? Why would you shag someone else?"

"No..." her mouth was trembling, the tears rolling down her cheeks and splattering onto the carpet. "I didn't... Gene, I wouldn't... You know that. You know I wouldn't do that to you, I love you." she was pleading with him now, begging him to understand. Why was he being like this? He knew that she wouldn't ever do that.

"Alex... You've got a bit of a reputation for bein' a tart and this... Come on, Bolls. Think 'ow it looks. You can't be pregnant with my baby." The last words of his speech were not angry, rather calm and measured, and she raised her head to look at him through her tears. Through the distortive liquid she noticed with a jolt the security camera behind his head and a terrible sense of comprehension dawned.

He put his mouth very close to hers and whispered the words. "DCI Keats' idea. Wanted to keep an eye on me in 'ere. You don't understand, Alex... It _can't_ be mine." His breath was soft on her cheeks and unusually clear of the smells that had made him the Gene he loved - fags and scotch. Having him so close to her was intoxicating, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his skin, but she knew she couldn't, mustn't. He repeated the last words for emphasis and this time she saw his face as he said them. "It _CAN'T_. Yer understand?"

She nodded, the tears flowing even faster as she understood what she had to do. She stared him in the eyes, waiting for what she knew was coming next, dreading the thought that she would have to leave here, knowing she could feign the necessary emotion with utter conviction. It would break her heart, to leave him again, but she raised her head, determined to look him in the eyes as he said the words.

But before he could say the words, before either of them could do anything, the door had burst open and DCI Keats had burst in, look of pure venom on his face. He looked gleeful, sickly gleeful, and his face was split in two by a grim, sneering grin.

"Well well well." He hissed. "Bolly's gone and got herself knocked up. Stupid, slaggy Bolly. What a _slapper._"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that." Gene threatened, taking half a step towards Keats, pushing Alex behind him, trying to protect her although he knew it was futile, Keats already had more than enough ammunition to hurt them both, even if only emotionally.

"But Gene, you said it yourself. It can't be yours. Your precious Alex has been sleeping around. Tart. Slapper. _Slag._" Keats provoked, and Gene took a threatening step forwards, squaring up to his captor, his tormentor.

Calmly, Keats pulled a gun and pointed it casually first at Gene's head, then trailing it over to point at Alex, first at her stomach then moving it up to point at her head.

"One move, Hunt, and I'll blow her brains out. Tragic story – the desperate, knocked up DI who tried to break out her doomed DCI and was shot by armed officers during the attempt... And her lover, who provoked the very same officers into shooting him, insane with grief, unable to live without her. In fact... Why don't I just kill you both now, and save them the trouble?" The words were spoken quietly, with a constant, venomous undercurrent.

And then slowly, menacingly, he cocked the gun.

**Muhahahaha! Cliffhanger :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well... I apologise to MorganaNK's nails, this is EVEN MORE of a cliffhanger! I couldn't leave it where it was, it wasn't dramatic enough, so here is another part for you all to enjoy :D Muchos love to reviewers! Please R&R x**

**For Jamielee :) x**

"Jim..." Alex's voice was quiet, calm. "Just think... you don't want to do this. This won't help you."

"Yes it will!" Keats all but shouted. "I want _him_, that corrupt, racist bastard, out of CID, out of the Met! He shouldn't be allowed to hurt good women, Alex! Good women like you!"

He gestured loosely with the gun and Alex froze, her hands splayed by her sides, but Keats laughed at her fear.

"You think _I'd _shoot you? You honestly think I would? After everything that's happened, you should be more scared of the _thug _that's stood behind you, who shot you and abducted you and knocked you up! And yet you _dare _to flinch from me?" He sounded appalled and Alex raised her hands, stepping fractionally away from Gene.

Gene felt rejected instantly. He could no longer feel the comforting warmth of her at his side, no longer reach out and take her hand to reassure her. He couldn't protect her if Keats got more aggressive, and that was what scared him – but then with a jolt he remembered the baby and that he had to protect his unborn child too.

"Why isn't she scared of you, Hunt?" Keats spat, and he shrugged, not wanting to provoke the already angry Discipline and Complaints officer.

"I SAID WHY?" The furious man shouted, and Gene shrugged again. "Well, maybe we'd better actually give her something to be scared of!"

With that, he lunged forwards and seized Alex, dragging her back by the throat, his gun pressed into her temple hard.

"ALEX!" Gene roared and she whimpered, incapable of speech. The gun was digging into her skin, a sharp, incessant pain, like a headache.

"Please..." she whispered, begging now. "Please don't shoot me."

Keats trailed his gun along her neck, pushing her hair back from her throat, taking the liberty of dipping his lips and placing them on her pulse point, feeling the blood flowing under her pale skin.

"You keep your lips off her..." Gene threatened, and Keats pulled away, leaving Alex trembling from the relief of being free from his contact.

"I'll do what I want with her, _Hunt._ I'm the one with the gun." Keats dipped his lips back to her skin, biting down on the pale white curve of her neck, pulling away to leave a dark red mark before turning her lips to his with the barrel of the gun, forcing her to respond to him.

Gene's blood was boiling. This man had grabbed _his _Alex and was stood there with a gun, threatening him, threatening her, _kissing _her in front of him. It was almost more than he could stand and he was contemplating lunging for the slime-ball and yanking him off her when Alex pulled away of her own accord.

"Stop, Jim... this isn't appropriate, it's not achieving anything. Let me go, let Gene go." She was pleading desperately with him, trying to get him to let her go. He rammed the gun into her temple again, kissing her again more roughly, and Gene sensed from experience the exact moment when Keats stuck his tongue in her mouth and she pulled her head away abruptly, raising one hand and dragging it over her lips.

"Sir! Please!" She begged, and Keats smirked, finally pushing her away towards Gene, who barely caught her and hardly absorbed the impact that even her feather-weight exerted on his new, weak frame.

"Bolly..." he gathered her close to him, staring with disdain at the large, angry red mark on her neck and hating the man who had done that to his Alex.

"You _bastard..._" Gene spat, glaring at Keats with utter loathing. "You utter bastard."

With that, Keats turned the gun to Gene's head, jabbing it into his forehead, and both men focused on the staring contest that abruptly evolved, both ignoring the woman who was stood between them.

"Maybe you'd prefer to be shot, Gene? Maybe you'd rather it was your brains decorating the walls of the interview room? What would that do to your dear, knocked up, slaggy little girlfriend?" He hissed, and Alex pushed Gene back, shielding him.

"Jim... leave him alone. What is this case for? Why do you hate him so much?" She asked, trying to reason with him.

"Because men like him are giving the force a bad name! They're destroying everything I believe in, everything you believe in! He's rot, Alex! He's the rot in the barrel! Disown him... join me. It's the only way. If you join me... I'll spare him. I'll let him go. Just take my hand... come on..." He stretched out one hand, sweet-talking her, and Alex knew it was desperate but if he was saying he would let Gene go... she had to take the chance.

She took his hand and he pulled her back to him, his lips on her face, her mouth, and she was kissing him back and it was more than Gene could stand. The bitch – she was betraying him... Keats was never going to let him out, no matter what the circumstances. He was thinking about how much he hated her, about how he hoped her baby died (_their _baby) and then she yanked away from Keats and his lecherous hands and slimy lips and she was yelling for him to run.

Keats roared in anger, pushing her away, and...

And he was catching her, holding her, and she was turning to face Gene and...

And Keats was aiming... aiming... aiming... and she was screaming his name and...

_BOOM._

And the shot was short, brief, and then she was falling to the ground, and he could see the blood, smell that salty tang of it, and her eyes were closing and...

And Keats was laughing manically and...

"_Bolly._"

**Apologies for slightly annoying style there... DUN DUN DUNNNNNN! CLIFFHANGER! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Soo... some fluffiness and stuff in this chapter :D Thank you so much to all my reviewers, muchos love and hugs to you all! Please keep/start R&R-ing :D**

**Enjoy!**

"_Alex, sweetheart... I don't know if you can 'ear me. The doctor got the bullet out – yer shoulder's pretty messed up, that's why they're keeping you sedated. But they patched up yer lung, and they've stitched you up. The baby's fine too, perfectly 'ealthy... I can feel 'er kicking now. D'you feel it? Little fidget. She's beautiful, Bolls... I love 'er so much already. I am gonna be the best daddy I can be to 'er, and the best partner you can ever 'ave. I promise to tell yer every day that I love yer, and how beautiful you are, cos you are, Alex. Screw what anyone else says. To me, yer perfect. Now you get better soon, you 'ear me?"_

_~/~/~/~_

"_Come on, Alex. You fight that infection off, get better soon. You gave us quite a scare last night, yer heart stopping like that. Don't you dare leave me, our baby girl needs you, and I need you. Keep fighting, and they say they'll wake you up soon, but you need to focus all your energy on getting well now, so it's good that yer under. I know you'll get better, yer strong, remember? Unbreakable, that was us. Drake and Hunt. I love yer, get well soon."_

_~/~/~/~_

"_The inquiry 'ave decided I'm innocent, Bolls. Even without you there, you daft tart. They said DCI Keats was "unhinged" and that anything he did 'ad to be discounted as evidence. There wasn't enough evidence to say that I abducted you against yer will, some footage of you waking up was found. Keats 'ad been 'iding it in 'is desk. We're gonna be OK, Drakey. They can't keep us apart any more. We're like Romeo and what's her face... Juliet. Only... not gonna die, obviously. The docs are saying that they'll wake you up soon, yeah? You fancy coming back to us?"_

_~/~/~/~_

"_Come on, Drakey. They've stopped giving you that stuff that was making you all dopey and keeping you asleep, you should be waking up. The infection's gone, what's keeping you from the land of the living? Wake up, Alex. Yer six months pregnant, they need you to wake up and start looking after yerself cos these drips aren't good for 'er. You need feeding up, Bolls. Yer too skinny. Well, yer perfect ter me, but they say yer too skinny. Need fattening up. Wake up, yeah? Just to keep them 'appy?"_

_~/~/~/~_

"_Come _on, _Alex. Wake up, please. It's been six weeks since that bastard shot yer. Six and a 'alf months gone with little Jessie. Well, I call her Jessie. Yer'll probably hate it, want ter call her something poncey like Jessica or Charlotte or Harriet. But I like Jessie. Why not Jessica, and then I can call 'er that, and you can call her Jessica or Jess or whatever yer like? God, I wish you'd just open yer eyes and tell me what you think, I need to talk to yer. I can 'ardly remember yer laugh, and you keep smiling but it ain't the same. Wake up. I love you, and our little girl loves you too. She needs her mummy. Shit, I sound like a ponce. I suppose you'll wanna be "mummy" though... but I quite like "daddy" to be 'onest. Christ, I've gone all soft. See what you've done ter me? Made me all soft and soppy and talking about feelings. Just wake up. Please. Please, love."_

_~/~/~/~_

"_Come on, Drake! I'm ordering yer now, just bloody wake up! Seven months pregnant, so I'm not gonna slap yer, but please... I'm begging. _Wake up!"

He squeezed her hand tightly. It had been two months since the shooting, and he desperately needed his Bolly back. Leaning down, he brushed her lips with his and pulled away, staring at her, willing her to open her eyes and smile at him, rather than the vague, painted-on looking thing that she was doing now, the tips of her mouth just curled up slightly at the sides serenely.

He picked up the photo that lay on her bedside table and placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around the black paper. Looking down at the image, the grainy grey and black profile of a face managed to make his heart stutter. His baby girl. Their baby girl.

"Wake up, Alex! Wake up, for me, for you, for Jessie, for _Molly..._" The name came from nowhere, rolling off his lips, and when he looked back up at Alex, he saw her eyes were open.

"_Alex._" He whispered, his tone relieved, joyous, jubilant. But the hazel orbs he so loved were clouded in confusion and when he leant towards her she pulled away.

"No! Molly..." One hand caressed her bump, dazed. "Who are you?"she whispered, shell-shocked. What she said next was what broke Gene's heart, what broke _him,_ because he knew that his suspicions, seemingly unfounded whilst she was unconscious, were now correct.

"I want Pete."

**Sorry, Morgana :) This is either a cliffhanger or speedbump, depending on who you are!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Oooh, fluffiness all round here :) Please enjoy, huge thank you to all my wonderful reviewers :D Please R&R and most importantly, enjoy!**

"No..." he whispered, backing away from the bed, trying to quell the horror rising in him, trying to ignore the anger he could feel burning in the pit of his stomach. She couldn't... she wouldn't...

"Pete... where's Pete?" She repeated, utterly bewildered, looking at him with no hint of recognition in her eyes, and she looked so innocent, so confused, that for a moment he softened, telling himself that this couldn't really be happening, she was only winding him up.

"Who's Pete?" he asked her calmly, hoping against hope that she would laugh and pull him to her by his tie and kiss him senseless, giggling at her joke. But she didn't, instead her hands went to her bump, stroking it, protecting it, and she was looking at him with fear in her eyes, condemning him as the mad one, rather than her.

"Pete." She said, staring at him in a way that clearly said he should know who she meant. "He's the father of my child."

He acted without thinking, lunging forwards and slapping her hard across the cheek, leaving her sobbing on the bed without letting her explain.

She had betrayed him. She had bloody betrayed him, the slag, the slut, the _whore._ He had trusted her and she had gone and shagged someone else, and now the child he had loved, cherished, named... wasn't even his. His Jessie... it wasn't even his. Some bastard named Pete had got in there whilst he had been away and now... Alex was dead to him. The baby was dead to him. He would write that bitch out of his life, he didn't need her. He could function without her, easy.

~/~/~/~

It was one week, four days, seven hours, thirteen minutes and forty-nine seconds before the hospital phoned Gene. He had been counting ever since he had stormed out of Alex's hospital room, leaving her confused and in pain, unsure what had happened, and he had been secretly regretting his decision ever since. He had considered going back there, but he was too proud to admit he missed her, too proud to admit that he might have been wrong... and then the phone call came and he had a legitimate reason to return to Alex's side.

The woman on the other end explained that Alex had been extremely confused upon emerging from her coma, and the drugs had caused her to temporarily lapse back to thinking she was pregnant with Molly, her first child. She had thought that she was with a man named Pete, who was Molly's father, and she was extremely upset that she had caused Gene any untoward stress or upset. She said that Alex had cried for him every day, and she was truly missing him, and she was in danger of causing serious harm to herself or the baby unless she saw him, and could he possibly come in and see her?

The final part was all the invitation he needed. He was downstairs, in the Quattro and racing back to her side, hardly daring to believe that Jessie was really his, she hadn't slept with anyone else or betrayed him, she had only been confused from the drugs. He couldn't quite believe he had ever thought ill of her, and the guilt threatened to overwhelm him on the way to the hospital. He had slapped her. He'd actually _hit _her... again. After vowing he never would, he'd done it again – he'd managed to hurt her, in every sense of the word.

Inside the hospital, he remembered the way perfectly, having walked it every day for two months, and he all but ran the last hundred metres, before being overcome with nerves and freezing outside the door, suddenly having reservations. What if she really hated him? What if she didn't really want to see him? What if...?

And then he heard it. It was a soft sound, but one he knew well, one that pained him beyond all belief. His face scrunched up as though it were a physical pain and he knew then that of course he could do it, of course he could see her.

The sound was his Bolly crying, and he knew that she wanted him, needed him.

Gently, he pushed open the door and stuck his head around it.

"Alex?"

**Morgana - speed-bump-ish enough?**


	14. Chapter 14

**So... sorry about the slight delay! Here is Part 14, please enjoy it... it's probably the penultimate chapter, so lots of Galex fluff :) Love and hugs to all my reviewers, please keeping R&R-ing :)**

At the sound of his voice, she started, and he pressed inside the door, taking in the sight of her, curled up on the bed, facing away from him. He entered without another word, tiptoeing over to the bed without a sound.

"I know I'm dreaming." She whispered, and he sat on the bed silently, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. She was shivering, through the thin cotton, and her skin was cold, and he stroked her arm, feeling the warm flush of blood under his palm.

"Gene?" She asked, her voice hesitant, and he pressed down on her arm lightly to stop her rolling over, lying down behind her and moulding his body to hers, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his hands resting on her bump, feeling the fluttering kicks of his baby girl.

"Shh, Bolls. I'm here, OK?" He murmured in her ear, kissing her neck, sweeping her hair from the back of his neck with one hand as he pressed his lips to every inch of skin he could reach, finally running out of soft pinkness on her neck and shifting his attention down to her shoulders, pausing on her pressure points and feeling her pulse hammering under his touch.

She turned her head then, and his lips met her cheek, her jaw, and then she turned properly, taking in the sight of his face, every inch of it heart-stoppingly familiar, and then his lips met hers and nothing else mattered. The taste was different, and his lips were softer, but apart from that it was the same.

Tears trickled down her face, turning her lips salty, and Gene pulled away the tiniest amount, brushing away a single, perfect drop with his thumb and smiling at her awkwardly.

"Oh Alex... I'm so, so sorry. For everything. This is all my fault. I should never have left you..." He whispered, his tone apologetic, choked with emotion. "I was just so 'appy that you were awake, and then you said 'is name, and I wasn't thinking and..."

"Gene?" She asked, her tone light, and he paused, staring her deep in the eyes. "Shut up."

The command was brief, and then her lips were back on his, cutting off his words, his oxygen, rendering him incoherent and unable to think. He kissed her back briefly and then pulled back again, his hands tracing the lines of her cheekbones gently, feeling the skin flush under his touch, watching the delicate rose spreading over her face, enjoying seeing her eyes shine as she took in his appearance, and he knew that she was doing at he was – memorising every detail of his skin, every fleck in his eyes, every part of him.

As he leant his head forward again, Alex rolled over fully, her stomach pressing against his, the hard swell of it fitting perfectly against his new slimmer form. He could feel the kicks of his unborn child, softly pummelling her mother, complaining at the sudden change in living space, but he didn't care about that. He cared more about the fact that Alex's hand was taking his, guiding it down to her stomach and holding it there, and he could feel tiny feet hitting his palm.

"Talk to her." Alex whispered, and he looked at her in confusion. "She likes her daddy. She likes his voice. It's all she heard when I was under... she's attuned to you. Thinking of you is the only way I can get her to calm down."

"Bolls..." His complaint was half hearted, and he shifted slightly, moving Alex so that she was curled around him like a comma, legs tucked around one hip, body resting on one shoulder.

"Jessie?" he asked, feeling stupid until the minute feet under his hand kicked a confirmation and a daft grin took over his face.

"Jessie... I love you, baby. And I love your mummy. Very, very much. I can't wait to meet you, and hold you..." he broke off as a thought occurred to him, turning his face to Alex's and addressing her. "You do like Jessie, don't you?"

"Of course I do... my little Jessie. Our little Jessie." She answered, and he smiled again, feeling their daughter kicking under her palm as he leant over and kissed Alex, feeling her smile into his lips.

"Love you, Bolly." He murmured, and she pulled away, resting her head on his chest sleepily.

"Love you too, Gene." She replied, her eyes closing, breathing slowing, as she fell asleep.

"My girls." Gene whispered, kissing her forehead protectively. "Both my girls."

**That's not even a cliffhanger, Morgana :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sooo... I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I can't bring myself to, it'll be the penultimate. One last cliffhanger! Much love to all my faithful reviewers - XTimeGirlX, sash queen of the jungle, MorganaNK and Jamielee :) ****Also, this chapter is dedicated to Brooke / Thunderboba... hope you enjoy!**

**Lots of Galex fluff... hope you like it!**

**Please R&R! **

Alex was allowed to leave the hospital the next day, clutching Gene's arm as he supported her from the room. She was unsteady on her feet, unused to walking with the weight of the baby as well. Since Gene had left her temporarily, she had remained on her bed, listless, and it was a new sensation to be walking around again.

Finally fed up of her wobbling, hesitant steps, Gene scooped her into his arms, ignoring her feeble protests, feeling her arms go around his neck as she began to trust him more. Setting her in the Quattro as though she were made of glass, she smiled up at him, radiant in her pregnancy.

"Gene?" her voice was breathless, although he had been the one exerting himself.

"Yes, Bolly?" he asked, kissing her forehead lightly and tucking a blanket around her knees protectively.

"I love you." She whispered, moving her lips up to meet his, pulling away with the tinge of regret.

"I love you too..." Gene replied, tucking a couple of loose hairs behind her ear and stroking her cheek softly. "Let's... let's not go straight home. I know this gorgeous little park... we can take Jessie there when she's older..."

She smiled his favourite smile then, kissing his cheek gently. "I like that idea, Gene."

~/~/~/~

It was in the small park, just off Alexandra Crescent, that Gene and Alex were sat, wrapped in a travel blanket, two months later. The sunlight through the trees was casting a warm golden glow over the grass, turning the blades orange in the evening light. The water in the lake reflected a dozen glinting daggers, and Alex's head was resting on Gene's shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. One arm was around her waist, holding her close to him, enjoying the comforting feel of her next to him, whilst the other hand was underneath hers, pressed against her bump, feeling the fluttering kicks of their baby girl.

Turning his head, he took in his beautiful fiancée. The way the sunlight turned her hair a deep auburn, rather than the chestnut he preferred. The way her cheekbones were accentuated by the setting sun, how she bit her lip slightly in contentment, snuggling her head further into his shoulder. He remembered proposing to her three weeks previously.

_They had been sat here, on this very same bench, and he had turned to her with a knowing smile on his face, producing the box from his back pocket and flipping it open, watching her eyes shine in the crisp October light._

_She had squealed as he went down on one knee, and after he asked the age-old question, she had flung her arms around his neck and kissed him with a longing that made his heart ache. As he slipped the ring onto her finger – the perfect white gold band engraved with "unbreakable", inset with a single, flawless diamond – she had gazed into his eyes, and he knew that she felt the same as he did._

He shook his head, returning to the present. Alex turned to look at him, her eyes on fire with happiness and contentment.

"Gene..." she whispered, leaning her head towards him slightly. Before his lips could meet hers, before he could so much as respond to the single word she had stated with such love, there was a strange sensation under her hand, and the look in her eyes turned to one of slow comprehension and fear.

"Bolly?" He asked, his tone uncertain.

"Gene..." the word she had said only moments earlier, repeated with utter certainty. "My waters have just broken."

**Stay tuned for the final part!**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm sorry about the long time, no update, I've had exams! Here is the final chapter... I hope you all like it! Much love to all my wonderful reviewers: XTimeGirlX, LionessOfTheQuattro, sash queen of the jungle, MorganaNK, Jamielee, Brooke, and everyone else! Pleas enjoy the last part :) R&R!**

Alex lay back on the pillows of her hospital bed, exhausted. From across the room, the first plaintive cries of her newborn daughter could be heard and she squeezed Gene's hand, tears filling her eyes. The midwife turned, the tiny, mewling bundle stirring feelings in both its parents that neither knew existed.

"Jessie..." Alex couldn't stop the name from escaping her lips, a desperate longing for her daughter making her chest ache. As the perfect form of her little girl was placed in her arms, she sighed in contentment, and the child fell silent, staring up at her mother with a pair of huge, blue eyes.

"Hey baby..." the words were almost soundless, as Alex reached out a tiny finger to her baby girl, feeling the strong grip on her finger and smiling, turning to look at an equally speechless Gene. He was stood, mouth open, a single tear bisecting his cheek. Gently, he too reached out a finger, offering it to his daughter – he could hardly grasp the concept, _daughter... _– and as she gripped it in her tiny fist, he smiled a proud smile.

"She... er... she looks like you, Bolly." He muttered, his voice gruff with emotion.

"Except the nose. She's got your nose." Alex appraised, and Gene smiled. The little girl rolled her head to one side, falling asleep, tucking one perfect thumb into her mouth. Gene leant down and placed a feather light kiss on her head, stroking Alex's hair and resting his head on her hair.

"Love you Bolly. I'm so proud of yer." He murmured, not wanting to wake his newborn daughter.

"Love you too, Gene." Alex turned her head, pressing her lips to his for the briefest of moments before returning her gaze to Jessie, taking in every detail of her perfect face and storing it in her brain.

~/~/~/~

_The race to hospital had been manic. Gene has carried Alex to the car, setting her down on the front seat and screeching towards the hospital at least three times the speed limit. His hand remained firmly in Alex's, and each time she suffered a contraction she gripped it, almost crushing his bones as she clung to him desperately, muttering curse after curse with each new wave of pain._

_He wanted to comfort her, but he knew that the sooner he got her to hospital, the sooner he could hold her in his arms and soothe away the pain, the sooner he could reassure her. "GENE!" she begged, her voice thick with pain and desperation._

"_Hang on, Bolly... please..." He squeezed her hand back then, the muscles complaining as they shifted. _

"_Gene... she's gonna be born in the Quattro if you don't bloody... SHIT!" She screamed again, doubling over around her distended belly, and Gene took the hint and speeded up, screeching to a halt outside the hospital as another contraction hit._

"_GENE! Hurry UP..." She begged, before taking in her surroundings. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. It was a rare moment of peace between contractions._

"_I love you, Gene." She whispered, and he smiled._

"_Love you too, Bollykecks... now, inside with yer, before you give birth in me car."_

~/~/~/~

Three year old Jessie Hunt sat on her mother's lap in Luigi's, smiling radiantly. Her blonde hair was tied up in pigtails, and she was dressed in denim dungarees and a red blouse.

"Mummy! Where's Daddy?" She demanded, staring up at her mother through deep hazel eyes and smiling angelically. "Want Daddy NOW."

"Jessie... Daddy will be here..." Alex was halfway through the sentence when the little girl squeaked excitedly.

"DADDY!" She shouted and Gene rushed to her immediately, lifting her off Alex's lap and spinning her round, resting her on his hip.

"How's my princess?" he asked, and Alex smiled. The old Gene Hunt, the one she had first met, would never have said anything like that. She would have laughed, had anyone suggested it to her.

"I'm happy, Daddy! Mummy let me feel her tummy and I felt Muffin kick!" She squeaked, and Gene smiled, leaning down to kiss Alex gently.

"And how is Muffin?" He asked teasingly, Alex's hand going to her stomach automatically, a smile creeping over her face.

"Baby is very well, Gene. Kicking. Little rascal." She explained, and Gene smiled, setting Jessie down.

"Go and play with Uncle Luigi," he encouraged, and she ran off, giggling, in her own private world. Gene sat beside Alex, stretching his arm out so that she could snuggle into his shoulder. She turned her lips to his, stroking his cheek with one hand, never wanting to break away but knowing she must. He pulled back first, however, producing a bunch of flowers from nowhere.

"Happy anniversary, Alex. I love you." He whispered, watching her eyes fill with tears.

"I love you too, Gene. I will never, never stop loving you. You, Jessie and Baby... my family." Alex replied, snuggling her head back into his shoulder.

She knew then that the single word engraved on her wedding ring would always be true.

"_Unbreakable."_


End file.
